


London Calling

by choirofangels



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1585253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choirofangels/pseuds/choirofangels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas has a one-way ticket to London. Dean is driving Cas to the airport.</p>
            </blockquote>





	London Calling

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble. Song title by The Clash.

Dean cranks up the stereo, doing his best to drown out the sound of Cas _talking_. He clenches and unclenches his jaw, feeling the muscle pop as he does, trying to give himself something else to focus on besides the freeway.

His efforts are in vain, and right now there's just him, Cas, and the open road to Kansas City International.

'And Balthazar said there's a new art exhibition,' Cas goes on. 'It's at the Tate Britain. Analysis of the portrayal of ethereal beings during the middle ages. He said we would have to pay to get in, since it isn't a permanent fixture, but I doubt it will be very expensive.'

'That's great, Cas,' Dean replies without feeling. If Cas notices, he ignores it.

'Did you know-' Cas snickers a moment later, his stupid grin plastered over his stupid face. 'There's actually a place in London called _Angel_?' He shakes his head fondly. 'Just one stop on the underground. Angel.'

'Really,' Dean replies, again, without much feeling.

The Impala groans as Dean turns a corner. He's used to her talking, all her creaks and squeaks, and over the years Dean's come to understand what she's saying, in a way. That groan was different, though, unhappy. It's probably due to the weight of Cas' suitcase in her trunk. He pats her gently, rolling his fingers over the wheel. She's always been loyal to him.

'Of course, I'm excited to be inside St. Paul's Cathedral. I think I'm going to go there first,' Cas needlessly informs him, reaching inside his pocket and pulling out a small tourist map he must have looked at a thousand times in the past half hour. 'Balthazar said that during the war, the flames reached to the steps in front of the Cathedral, but somehow it was spared. Isn't that amazing?'

'Fascinating,' Dean snaps. He's seriously beginning to lose his patience.

'Balthazar also told me that there are a number of quaint places to eat close by. I'm hoping I'll be able to make a day of- Dean, what're you doing?' Cas asks, sounding as perplexed as his expression when Dean slams on the brakes and pulls over. 

Dean doesn't care, he just wants to smack that look off of Cas' goddamn face.

'Just gettin' some air,' he spits.

He gets out of the car and slams the door a little too hard, leaning against the hood and grinding his teeth, pointedly looking anywhere but at Cas. The sound of traffic rings in his ears. He takes a deep breath, wincing slightly when the cold February air burns his throat. 

Cas is leaving, and he doesn't know when he's coming back. He's leaving Dean all alone, just like Sammy did, miles and miles away from anything either of them have ever called home. Dean can survive this, he knows he can, he just isn't sure if he wants to. 

All he needs is five minutes to mentally rearrange himself, to slot things back into perspective. Cas is his friend, his _best friend_. They've been inseperable for years, and all Dean should be doing right now is giving his best friend a lift to the airport, because the daft idiot can't drive. Instead, he feels like he's gotten himself into a chick flick inspired crusade to say some kind of a meaningful goodbye, but all Cas keeps talking about is how much he's excited to leave. He's leaving Dean, Lawrence, Kansas, hell – America – behind, and he can't wait. As much as Dean wishes it didn't, it _hurts_.

He rubs his face with his hand and concentrates on watching the cars go by, wishing to God or whoever that this horrible, sinking, disgusting feeling in his stomach would disappear. It's been there ever since Cas announced his impromptu grand voyage to Britain for no reason except to meet some guy named Balthazar (seriously?) who he'd met online.

Dean doesn't know what the deal is with Balthazar and hasn't really had the courage to ask. He's been too busy trying to deal with his own shit, there are no how-to manuals on how to deal with waking up one day and wanting your best friend. He's too scared to ask if Cas likes this guy, the one question which will let him know for sure that it's too late for them already.

Whether or not Dean likes it, all he is right now is a taxi service. They're not far from the airport, so he'll be able to take Cas the rest of the way and he'll get there with time to spare before he needs to get on a plane and Dean will _survive_.

He looks up at the sky for answers, biting his lip and folding his arms tight over his chest. He hasn't felt this bad since Sammy had up and left for Stanford, leaving him with an empty home and an alcoholic father to take care of. After the funeral, there'd been nothing left to keep Dean in Lawrence, except Cas.

'Dean?' Cas gingerly steps out of the car. 'Is everything alright?'

'Yeah,' Dean sighs, whatever anger had been in him dissipating into resignation. It was always going to be this way, for him. Cas is too good for someone like him. 'Jus'- I just need a minute.'

Cas chews his lip, glancing back at the traffic, considering. Eventually, he goes to Dean, leaning against the hood right next to him. They stand there in silence, for a little while, Cas watching the traffic go by while Dean studies his shoes.

'You know,' Cas starts gently, not looking at him. 'If there's something bothering you, I'd like to help.'

'There's nothing bothering me, I-' Dean glances up and Cas is giving him this _look_ that says I-know-you-Dean-Winchester-and-I-don't-believe-a-word. He sighs, exasperated. He doesn't know how to do this, dammit, all he's ever been taught is _no damn Hallmark moments_. 'I'm- Jesus, Cas, I'm no good at this!' he growls.

'I can wait,' he replies calmly. Damn him.

Dean sighs figuring, what the hell, he might as well be honest. It's hard, but he owes it to their friendship. 'It just sucks that you're leavin', alright? Shit. You don't even know when you're comin' back, an' here it is, just me an' you for once, an' you just keep talkin' 'bout that Balthazar guy. You've known him for what? Three months? You hot on him, or somethin'?' He doesn't meet Cas' eye, face growing hot. He hadn't meant to say it, hadn't meant it to sound that jealous and bitter, but it had and he desperately tries to cover for himself, pointedly ignoring the way Cas' eyes have grown huge. 'I know you're excited about London, man, that's cool, but-'

Whatever else Dean was going to say is lost when Cas steps all up into his space, fists his hands in the lapel of Dean's flannel shirt, half shoves him up onto the hood of the Impala, gives Dean half a second to push him away and then _kisses him_.

The kiss isn't soft, or sweet, or gentle or anything you'd think a first kiss between two people who've danced around each other since eighth grade should be. It's as much the clash of teeth as it is meeting of lips, but it's rough, hard, possessive and fucking perfect. 

Dean grunts in surprise, before grabbing Cas' coat and holding on. He tilts his head and opens up, eager and wanting. Cas tastes like coffee and honey, a faint trace of mint, and Dean moans quietly when the slip of Cas' wet tongue slides over his, feeling Cas' grip in his shirt clench impossibly tighter.

They kiss until their lips are sore, until they can't breathe, refusing to be the first to let go.

A car horn beeps from somewhere along the road and one of Cas' hands releases Dean's shirt. He cracks open an eye to see Cas' arm outstretched towards the road, flipping the driver off, refusing to let Dean go. He chuckles, feeling Cas' lips stretch tight against his own in a smile.

When they finally let go of one another, just enough to be half an inch or so apart, both of Cas' fists back in Dean's shirt, he lets out a small, surprised laugh. What just _happened_? Cas' cheeks are pink and his lips are wet, and he looks just as surprised as Dean feels, in the best way possible.

'Bloody 'ell, Cas,' Dean teases, in what must be the worst imitation of a Cockney accent to have ever been attempted in the history of mankind. He cringes at himself, laughing softly when Cas audibly groans, but then he's _giggling_ dammit, pushing up into Dean's space, a fondness in his eyes that makes Dean's chest feel full and, yeah, Dean's down with trying to make him laugh like that for the rest of his life. 

'How long?' he asks, hesitantly.

'Forever,' Cas whispers against his lips, rubbing his nose against Dean's gently before kissing him again. Dean hums happily, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him closer still.

They kiss until Cas' watch starts beeping and he curses quietly. 'Check-in opened,' he mumbles against Dean's lips. 

Dean sighs, nodding, remembering where they are, what they're supposed to be doing. 'C'mon,' he relents, getting back into the car. If Cas wants to go, Dean can't stop him. 

He gets to turning the key in the ignition, but before he can pull back out onto the road Cas turns to him, a crazed, excited look in his eyes.

'Come with me,' he announces. Dean gives him a quizzical look. 'To England. Come with me, Dean.'

'What?' Dean asks, because _what_?

'The exhibition I want to see will be on for a year; it's just opened,' Cas babbles. 'We can go see it together. There's nothing keeping you here, Dean. I- I want you to _come with me_.'

Dean wants to, he really does, would do anything for Cas, maybe even this, but he's been on a flight once and it made him want to _die_.

He must be hiding the icy feeling of utter dread bleeding through him pretty badly, because Cas takes one look at his expression and grins, shaking his head. 'Let's go for dinner,' he suggests. 'We'll need food to work out how we're going to get you across the Atlantic without taking a plane.'

Although he probably won't say it for a long time, in that one moment, Dean knows Cas is the one. That's why he nods, _yes_ , with a smile on his face he hasn't felt in years, because why not? He pulls back onto the highway, his best friend grinning beside him.

'Next stop, London.'

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr.](http://choir-of-angels.tumblr.com) ♥


End file.
